I have not done this for quite a while; reblogged on back to back days, but this is a special day. Please celebrate and share an Arr with someone special. Be a pirate and talk like one.
I am sure many children I taught over the years were ADD/ADHD, but this also describes me. I like to wander.
Now you can more fully understand why the exercise in the last post was such a struggle.
Source: themetapicture.com
The Bridge
Kathy and I enjoyed our break at the retreat this weekend. I feel a little under the weather, but during the retreat itself that simply found a backseat in the peaceful environment we were in all weekend.
When I attend spiritual retreats, I find part way through I question myself. We often talk about compassion in these settings, but I struggle at times to be kind to those who I feel have offended me in the past. I am sure it is human nature. This weekend, I recognized there is worth in the small offenses, I find the good as I turn a little on the circle and shift my senses. I can see the world slightly differently. It is the bridge I need to walk across the abyss that appears, but it is only visible one step at a time. I trust my judgement and that of those who help me take those steps.
I know some might look at this picture and say,”That isn’t much of a drop or bridge.” I am so afraid of heights even this was a challenge the day I crossed.
I stand on the edge
The abyss yawns
Take the first step
The bridge is safe.
Built on compassion
Crafted from wisdom
Supported by community
It will carry my weight.
If only I trust my self
Take the first step
Trust my instincts
And those who travel with me.
Retreat
Kathy and I are attending a retreat this weekend, so I am off-line for the weekend. I will leave you with Mindful by Mary Oliver. This poem reminds me to keep all my senses open and welcome that which is around me into my heart and mind.
Every day
I see or hear
something
that more or less
kills me
with delight,
that leaves me
like a needle
in the haystack
of light.
It was what I was born for –
to look, to listen,
to lose myself
inside this soft world –
to instruct myself
over and over
in joy,
and acclamation.
Nor am I talking
about the exceptional,
the fearful, the dreadful,
the very extravagant –
but of the ordinary,
the common, the very drab,
the daily presentations.
Oh, good scholar,
I say to myself,
how can you help
but grow wise
with such teachings
as these –
the untrimmable light
of the world,
the ocean’s shine,
the prayers that are made
out of grass?
Kathy took this picture of the frost on the Ponderosa Pine which sits in front of our house.
What If Nature Could Remember or Dream?
After I posted Open Heart; Open Mind, I recalled a Wendell Berry poem entitled In a Country Once Forested. I wondered what if nature really could remember? What would that be like? What if nature were a dreamer of dreams? I think Wendell Berry says it beautifully and wisely in this poem.
The young woodland remembers
the old, a dreamer dreaming
of an old holy book,
an old set of instructions,
and the soil under the grass
is dreaming of a young forest,
and under the pavement the soil
is dreaming of grass.
I think nature is can recall and able to dream dreams. It might look like this.
Open Heart; Open Mind
I walked out of the house and looked up at a clear sky. The Moon stood out in the sky and just below was a morning star. It is not a great picture, but it reminded me I live in a metropolitan area of over 1 million. I find my self rewarded when I take the time and see nature in that place. They are there; I only have to look for them.
See what I want
Hear what I choose
Instead, open my whole self.
Behold nature’s gifts
Hold close to the heart
Hidden only when I choose.
Nature waits for me
Quietly reveals its self
Open my whole self.
9/11
A friend asked this morning, “Where were you?”
I was in my car driving to school when the news broke. It seemed surreal like H. G. Wells’ War of the Worlds must have. When I got to school, I found a TV, and we watched it in my classroom. Other teachers did not take the same approach which surprised me. In today’s world, the interconnectedness is so real.
It is easy to say this could not happen in Canada, but on September 10, 2001 who would have thought it would happen the following day? Who could predict the consequences of the act of a handful of men that day and their impact on our lives?
That infamous day
I recalled today
A surreal moment
A nightmare.
Senseless tragedy
Grief shared
Touches one;
Touches all.
Time to heal
Hold memories close
Loved ones gone
Not forgotten.
September
I walked the path along the North Saskatchewan River yesterday. The valley is changing as nature takes its course and readies us for autumn.
Leaves fall by the path.
New colours slowly emerge
Nature paints herself.
Summer slips away
Seamlessly meets the equinox
Harvest our bounty.
A Time of Rest
Kathy took this picture last weekend. They finished a day cleaning the farmhouse and it is livable. The sun, after a dreary day, appeared and the sky was awash with golden rays. I feel this way in the classroom. I love what I do. I am whole and find voice. I am a learner, a teacher, and the two are inseparable, but I remind my self to be mindful and give thanks.
Fleetingly framed
Trees against golden skyline
Nature paints day’s end.
Glorious moment
Sky awash with golden light
I am fulfilled.
Tern, Tern, Tern
Kathy and I walk in the North Saskatchewan River valley 3 or 4 times a week. As we walked today and came across this scene, it reminded of the Pete Seeger melody Turn, Turn, Turn using words adapted from Book of Ecclesiastes.
To Everything (Turn, Turn, Turn)
There is a season (Turn, Turn, Turn)
And a time to every purpose, under Heaven.
Teacher as Transformer 